


The Smallest Problem

by Picori



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Because I can, Comedy, F/M, Inappropriate Behavior, Macro/Micro, Romance, Science Fiction, Scifi shit, sorta??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-28 19:37:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15056294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Picori/pseuds/Picori
Summary: "'Mr. Spock?' She called out to him, but no answer. Her hand ghosted over the table where the shrink ray once rested. She found the pedestal where the fruit sat, but found it empty, save for the tiny apple. She stared at it curiously. Her foot collided with a pile of clothes as she attempted to circle the spectacle. Odd, she thought. She knelt down to inspect them. Carefully picking up the shirt, she studied the article. The rank on the sleeve was that of a first officer: Spock's shirt."





	1. An Unlikely Outcome

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my first work on ao3, and I'm not used to writing fanfiction. Like, at all. So I'm pretty much a newbie when it comes to writing. I still wanted to try my hand at it because 1) this ship is rare and 2) there's not much content for it, so I got off my lazy ass to contribute to this pairing. 
> 
> I actually have two more fic ideas, but those are much longer and require more time to map out the plot. This one is going to be short, no longer than five chapters. At least, that's what I say now. Lololol
> 
> Anyway, thanks for checking out my fic! Leave a kudos, review, or both! I'm open to constructive criticism and I'm curious to hear what other people think. Feel free to leave suggestions, too. Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: The rating of this may change in the future.

Spock placed the ray gun back down on the table and picked up a PADD, scribbling his notes from his findings. Dr. Kinsley and her team had been working on a project to create a shrinking device for the aid of medical procedures, and she was excited to announce that they were proud to bestow before him a rather clunky 20th century-style shrink ray. She had approached Spock to offer him to be the first to test it out in its beta stage, and he had agreed to do so. His first experiment was to test it on something minor, like a child's toy or piece of food. The object he had just successfully shrunk was a fruit, an Andorian apple to be exact. It's large size and bright blue color was hard to miss in a bleak, white science lab.

With PADD in hand, he went over to the pedestal that held the fruit at a safe distance and made notes of the changes. Slight discoloration, major change in size (about the size of his thumbnail), no bruising or secretion of fluids. He picked it up with his thumb and index finger and it examined it more closely: smells the same as a ripe andorian apple, which produced a sweet, flowery aroma when ready to be harvested and eaten, he even bit off a tiny piece and scribbled down the taste of it.

All the while, a figure slipped into the lab unnoticed and skirted the wall behind Spock. The intruder cautiously and quietly tip-toed up to the gun left unattended, and snatched it like a hawk catching its prey. Spock was still writing his progress on the PADD when all of a sudden, a bright green flash engulfed him and a high-pitched ringing split his ears. His entire body tingled, every inch of his being felt as though icy pins pricked his skin and muscles. His heart jolted in his chest as this burst of energy wracked through his being. He saw the room change before his eyes, growing at an intense rate, his clothes suddenly becoming too big as he saw them cave in from the lack of body to cling to. He kept shrinking and shrinking until the beam ceased. His head swam with the last surge of energy, muscles giving out to the heavy weight of the cloth that washed over him like a tidal wave.

The culprit glared at the pile of cloths that collected near the pedestal, taking in every minute detail of what just happened. He approached the crumpled uniform, and used his shoe to poke at the pile. No source of movement. Satisfied and confident with his work, he stuffed the gun under his arm and made for the doorway, an arrogant smirk pulling at his lips. The doors swished open, and closed as he exited.

* * *

  
"Christine, can you go get Mr. Spock? I made it clear to him about an hour ago that he's overdue for a physical," McCoy huffed as he filled out his previous patient's paperwork.

Nurse Chapel was organizing medical supplies when he asked her to retrieve his next patient. How very unlike him, she thought. He's always punctual, even when he doesn't want to be. He must be engrossed in some kind of scientific project or experiment.

"Alright, doctor. Do you happen to know where he is?" She put the empty hypos down and wiped her hands clean.

"Captain said he would most likely be in one of the labs. Said he was conducting his own experiment." His eyes never lifted from the paper. Christine hid a smile as she had guessed correctly.

"I'll go check, then." And she left sickbay for the labs.

Christine hummed to herself as she passed fellow shipmates, a small smile forming on her lips. She always loved connecting with Spock on any occasion or subject whenever she had the chance to. If he was smart enough, which was already a likely factor, he would've known that she had strong feelings for him. No amount of data or research could be calculated on how much she loved him. But it was difficult to convey her feelings to him, as his species is practically immune to all emotion. Or so she had always thought.

Her body language when she is around him would suggest that she saw him more than a first officer. Those who are well-versed in human behavior could see that for miles. Her close friend, Lt. Uhura, could see it written all over her face, though she dared not to say anything to Christine. Leonard is the only one who knew, and she trusted him to take it to his grave. He almost pitied Christine for falling for a pointy-eared walking computer, afraid that she would get hurt. He allowed her chances to advance upon the vulcan and encouraged her to try to gain his affection, or at the very least, his attention. But all efforts were lost thus far.

Nurse Chapel was a woman of knowledge, compassion, and kindness; Spock was a man of logic, emotionless statute, and intelligence. How the two would ever be together was beyond the doctor, but he supported his colleague's decision to pursue him.

As Nurse Chapel neared the lab, Lt. Stiles crashed into her as he exited the room, both of them physically and mentally taken aback from the abrupt impact.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, nurse," he apologized quickly. "I didn't see you there."

"That's alright, lieutenant," she straightened her uniform. She glanced up to meet his bright eyes, and apologetic smile. She reciprocated the grin. "No harm done." Her eyes trailed down his face to his neck, to his right shoulder that dipped back, to his arm that was hidden from her view. "What do you have th-"

She was cut off as he took off instantaneously, as soon as he noticed her wandering gaze. The nurse stood there, processing the awkward departure for a minute before mentally shrugging, delicate brow quizzically quirked.

Christine walked through the doors, expecting to see a busy vulcan buzzing around the instruments but found the spacious lab empty, save for the cabinets and scientific doo-dads. She scanned the room for any activity, but was surprised to find no one stirring about. She slowly made her way to the center of the room, head darting around, looking for the first officer.

"Mr. Spock?" She called out to him, but no answer. Her hand ghosted over the table where the shrink ray once rested. She found the pedestal where the fruit sat, but found it empty, save for the tiny apple. She stared at it curiously. Her foot collided with a pile of clothes as she attempted to circle the spectacle. Odd, she thought. She knelt down to inspect them. Carefully picking up the shirt, she studied the article. The rank on the sleeve was that of a first officer: Spock's shirt.

Her eyes widened with worry and confusion. Where was Mr. Spock and why are his clothes here? She had to assume that it wasn't a prank; vulcans don't tell jokes and play pranks. She turned the shirt over, searching for any clues as to what could have possibly happened when a tiny object fell out of the garment. It landed on the soft cushion of the pants, _and it moved._ Nurse Chapel isn't squeamish, but she doesn't particularly care for bugs; her immediate instinct was to smack the disgusting creature to kill it in one blow.

But she stopped herself upon further inspection that this insect was not an insect at all, but was in fact, a shrunken being: Mr. Spock himself. He was about the size of her thumb, from the very tip of it to the base on her palm. He looked so flustered and disheveled as he struggled to free himself from the tangle of cloth. He peered up at his discoverer and was rather glad to see that it was a familiar face. He ceased his struggle and spoke up to her.

"Nurse Chapel, would you assist me in freeing myself?" His voice was high-pitched, like a cartoon chipmunk's.

She blindly nodded and gently pulled the folds away from his naked body. He shakily stood up.

"M-Mr. Spock," she stammered, blinking twice to make sure she believed her eyes. "What happened to you?" Her voice was booming to his little ears, and he grimaced at the sound of her voice. She shrunk back and softly repeated her question.

"I do not know," he replied. "I was recording my progress with Dr. Kinsley's shrink ray--"

"Shrink ray?" She mimicked.

"Yes," he continued curtly. "She asked me to test her invention, and I agreed to do so. My first attempt was not successful, as the Vulcan plumbus did not change size. I made adjustments to the device and tried again with an Andorian apple, and was successful. As I wrote down my notes, the shrink ray was apparently pointed and fired at me, resulting in my current state. I do not know how it happened, as I had left it alone, on the table," he pointed to the sturdy lab table 15 feet away from where she knelt. "A malfunction could be possible, but-"

"Or someone deliberately did it to you." She cut in, glaring at the doorway where Lt. Stiles hurriedly exited from. She returned her gaze to the little green man. "You aren't safe down here on the ground. I'd better take you to Dr. Mc-"

"No, I do not wish him to know what has happened, or the Captain." He paused as he searched his brain for options that did not involve the Captain or Dr. McCoy.

"Well, at least let me help you. You can't expect to get around when you're barely the size of a peach." She lowered her hand for him to climb on to. Spock hesitated to accept her help, not wishing to rely on someone at all. He was used to doing everything himself, but he had no room to argue in his current state. He gingerly stepped on to her palm, and held her thumb for support and balance. She slowly lifted him from the ground, careful to mind the dizzying height he was experiencing.

Christine had to admit that despite the unfortunate event, he was the most adorable thing she had ever seen, much better than finding a bug in his shirt. She suppressed a smile that wanted to surface, and the urge to coo at his small size. Despite the unfortunate event, this could be a blessing in disguise, a chance for her to get closer to him. She beamed inwardly at this new chance that had arisen. She picked up his clothes and boots, and tucked them under her arm. She glanced around the room as she stood up, listening carefully for incoming company. The best thing to do to was keep him concealed for now and get him to a safe place. Her quarters seemed like an acceptable option, as she was not going to drop him off at his own quarters and leave him alone. She dutifully took the position to be his guide and guardian, whether he wanted her to or not.

With one final scan, she left the lab, with Spock in her curled hand.


	2. Closer To The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine and Spock get to know each other rather quickly, much to Christine's joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is about the same length or just a bit longer than the last chapter. I'm hoping to write more for each one because personally, I love reading long chapters. I'm not there yet, but I will be!
> 
> I'm working on another Spock/Chapel fic that is much darker than this light-hearted story. It's actually so much darker that I've had to take a few breaks from writing it because it affected me more than I thought it would. lol
> 
> Also, thanks for reading thus far! I know it's only two chapters in, but thanks for taking a look. And someone gave me my first bookmark! Thank you!

Christine ducked into the hallway, doors swishing shut behind her. She kept Spock close to her person for concealment and protection. No one seemed to suspect anything strange had happened, and neither did she display such a belief. Spock repressed the emotion of awe as he observed her movements and language. The emotions that bubbled deep within him but were kept at bay, which started to prove difficult, kept resurfacing in his mind. Each time he slipped from Nurse Chapel's palm, he found himself steadying his breath and focusing on the strength he needed to continue to hold on to her finger.

Shipmates passed them, not a word was spoken. A nod here and a smile there, but so far, no one stopped her. She continued her journey to her quarters in utmost determination, completely ignoring the sickbay as she passed it. Just a little further, one more corridor, and she was home fr-

"Nurse Chapel!" A voice called out to her from behind. She froze in her tracks. A perfect time for an obstacle, she groaned inwardly. Whomever it was, they could not see Spock. She glanced around her surroundings to try and find a spot to hide him: a blank wall and a corridor. Spock looked up at her in concern.

Christine's brow furrowed as an idea came to her, but she knew Spock was not going to like it. "I'm sorry about this, Mr. Spock."

"I do not under--" She grabbed hold of him and hurriedly tucked him into her bosom, deep enough to not be seen even from wandering eyes.

Spock had no time to react to her inappropriate maneuver, as he found him sandwiched between her breasts in a matter of seconds. For once, he didn't know what to think of the situation. A deep, foreign feeling that burst through and nestled in his stomach caught him off-guard. He felt heat rise to his cheeks, spread across to his ears, and as far down as his chest. What was the saying? "Butterflies in my stomach?" He now understood the idiom as those "butterflies" fluttered about. It was uncomfortable. However, he dared not to move a muscle. He only knew Nurse Chapel as a colleague, and to suddenly be this close to her in more ways than one had him going through his emotions and thoughts like a computer processing commands.

Christine smoothed out her dress and gently patted her chest and took a deep breath. The voice briskly walked up to her, to which she turned around to face her suitor. It was Dr. McCoy.

"Have you found him, Christine?" His tone bordering anger and irritation.

Her nerves steeled, a knee-jerk reaction to McCoy's moody attitude. "No I haven't, doctor." Spock listened to her lie through her teeth.

The doctor tisked with his tongue. Surely Spock would eventually come to him because McCoy would definitely send security to his quarters and drag him to sickbay by the tips of his pointed ears. This was getting ridiculous.

"Well, if you run into him," he scratched his chin as his gaze trailed off to the side, then snapping back to her cool blue eyes. "Send him down to sickbay." Baby blues traveled down to the rolled up clothing in her arms. He pointed to it. "What's that?"

"I was passing by the laundry room as I was looking for Mr. Spock and I found someone's uniform on the floor. It belongs to Ensign Vargas. I was on my way to deliver it to him." A swing.

"Oh," he paused briefly. He endearingly patted her cheek as he smirked with that Southern charm. "You're too good to us, Chris." And a hit. He turned away and made his way back to sickbay.

Once he was out of sight, she sighed out of relief and chuckled to herself. That was close. She pulled on her neckline slightly to talk to the little Vulcan currently stiffened between her breasts. She spoke low and quietly.

"Are you alright, Mr. Spock?" A rather ridiculous question.

He pushed on her flesh to wiggle himself up farther to get some air. "Yes, though I would have preferred a different method of concealment."

"I'm sorry, it was the first thing that I thought of. No one expects to look _there_ for someone." The strange part was that she wasn't wrong, and he hesitated to accept that argument. "Why don't you stay there until we get to my quarters? Just in case we run into other people." He was silent, but he nodded slowly. She tucked him back in, and continued on.

* * *

  
The clock read 21:07 as Nurse Chapel stepped through the doorway to her dark room. She turned on the lights with a _click!_ and the room was illuminated to a comfortable ambiance. She moved to her bed and sat down cautiously. Her hand delved into her cleavage and retrieved the shrunken Vulcan from her bra; she placed him gently on her nightstand. He stood before her, as if he were born into the world as a new man, but not in the sense of a new beginning in his life. He was naked and vulnerable, a new sensation he did not wish to experience. Of course, he had no shame as Nurse Chapel was a professional woman and she had seen him nude plenty of times for check ups and procedures. But the informality of the circumstances were not appropriate for him to remain naked.

"Let's get you something to wear," She bit her lip as she looked around her room, searching for anything she could use for makeshift clothing. Her pale blue eyes fell on a little doll house that she brought with her from home, which now serves as a childhood memento of imaginative bliss. She went over to it and opened it up to reveal two male figurines with cloth shirts and pants, three female figurines each with a varying outfit, and two children figurines with likewise apparel as the males. She picked the one that was in the best shape and took off the clothes, which consisted of a beige t-shirt and black pants.

Christine placed the figurine back into the doll house and closed it. She came back to the bed and handed Spock the toy apparel. He held it up as if to judge it, reading the material as if it were an equation. He sighed, and slipped the shirt on over his head. It wasn't exactly a perfect fit, the head hole was too big and it slid off his shoulder to one side, but it would suffice. He picked up the pants and stepped into them; also not a perfect fit but better than being exposed. He would have to occasionally readjust his pants so that they don't fall to his ankles. In all honesty, Christine thought he looked silly. But this is what they had to work with for the time being. So she held her tongue.

"Is that better?" A small smile on her soft pink lips. He couldn't help but notice how aesthetically pleasing they appeared to be, to him, at this very moment.

"Yes," he caught himself. "Yes it is. Thank you." He walked over to the edge, closer to her. Deep brown eyes took in every new angle that was presented before him. The glass of water that sat untouched since last night towered over him, the pillows were now a landscape of cotton and feathers, the sheets were caves and ravines, the dresser was a mountain, and this human was a giantess. He realized how much he actually needed her as the drastic size difference settled in. He wasn't so ready to accept that she was going to be his only companion for the duration of this problem; he needed engagement with other peers, albeit the species may differ from Vulcans and humans, feedback from a crew of scientists, orders from his captain--

Jim. Spock believed that relaying the news to the captain would elicit a negative reaction, one he wishes to avoid. He slowly sat down on the cliff of the nightstand, completely lost in his thoughts. He wished to solve this problem before it reached the ears of the captain and the chief medical officer, but putting new variables into the formula made it clear that that was unlikely to happen.

Christine noticed how his tiny features unfurled the hidden emotions that were swirling in his chest and head. She leaned closer to him, hands placed delicately in her lap. "Mr. Spock," she started gently. His conscience was brought to the present, his usually cold and calculated gaze changed to concern and loneliness; they turned to look at her warm and inviting eyes, and he felt relief when he looked at her."I know this may be a disaster, and I know I may not seem like much, but...." Her eyes broke from his and trailed off to the side in uncertainty and self-doubt. "But I'm willing to help you," and those blue pools of kindess came back to his earthy brown irises. "I will keep you safe. I will risk punishment if it means I have to keep this from the captain and Dr. McCoy. I--"

She stopped her impromptu vow when she noticed that had stood up and that his palm was raised to hush her. It was then swept behind his back and clasped by the other, his usual observant stance that he took when idle or pensive. "Miss Chapel--" And this time, it was his turn to be cut short.

"Christine. You...don't have to be so formal, Mr. Spock."

The classic eyebrow quirk was given as a response, his rebuttal followed. "You say that I need not to be formal with you, yet you refer to me as so," he paused for a beat; she, defeated. "Christine, I consider your actions as very helpful and I am forever grateful that you are the person who has...ah, what is the proper phrase? 'Come to my rescue?'"

She nodded, a smile creeping its way on her lips. "I...am confused why you do not think yourself as 'much,' as you have put it. According to Dr. McCoy, he has stated numerous times that you are a vital asset to the ship's medical team. He praises your determination and patience, especially when his is absent."

Her smile disappeared, and again her eyes darted from his intense gaze. Her posture slouched slightly as her shoulders drew inward, her right hand sliding up her left arm and holding it there. She appeared to be physically hurt, according to Spock's assumption, but it was a typical expression of embarrassment, guilt, modesty, or emotional hurt, which he did not assume.

She spoke in a hushed voice. "That's not what I meant, Spock."

He was quick to understand her true meaning. "Christine," he wanted to pull her hand to his, but he was reminded of the stark contrast in size as he continued to search upward for her eyes; her heart jumped whenever he said her name. "I understand that you have felt sexual and emotional attraction towards me for quite some time."

At this, she turned her head away from him, completely embarrassed by his accuracy of her feelings for him. He saw her cheeks brighten to a tint of crimson, and to his surprise, a grimace of pain written on her face. He resumed his speech.

"I may not understand those feelings, and perhaps I never will," her heart sank; he continued. "But I cannot deny that I, too, have felt something whenever you are mentioned or are near me. It is very strange, and yet, fascinating. And I am in the process of analyzing these happenings." She slowly turned her head back to face him, her heart rising with hope from the depths of where it sank, her eyes red with tears threatening to spill down her rosy cheeks. Why was she crying?

"Have I offended you?" He inquired.

A short laugh came from her in response. "No, no you haven't," she sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes. She smiled at him, but it seemed to hide a hint of sadness and he felt his heart, as if it could, constrict when she looked at him. She looked at the clock, he copied her actions and saw that it read 21:33. What felt like hours between them had actually only been a few minutes. No matter what way they saw it, it was getting late and they both needed to sleep. Spock wanted to press on with their conversation but Christine quickly changed the subject to avoid further prodding. "Well Spock, we've had an eventful day and I'm sure you're emotionally drained more than I am, so let's get some shut eye."

She extended her hand for him to walk on to it, in which he did. Spock was lowered onto the bed, stepping off onto the blanket. "You can have a portion of the bed, if you'd like. I know space won't be an issue," she rose from the bed and went to the dresser and retrieved her dressing gown. "I don't move around much when I sleep, so you won't have to worry about being crushed in your sleep."

Spock nodded. He pulled back the covers and settled himself in bed, leaning against the enormous pillow to recline. He watched Christine and her movements. First, she took off her boots and placed them next to the dresser. Then, she went into the small chamber of a bathroom and shut the door to change. It wasn't long before she emerged in an ankle-length silky nightgown that clung to her upper body generously, small straps that extended back over her shoulders, a v-neck that stopped in between her breasts, and attach under the arms and across the back, a sheer layer that flowed behind her when she walked. Spock couldn't help but stare at the rather magnificent creature before him, drinking in the beauty that she unconsciously bestowed upon him. It was like his breath was taken away, for he found it caught in his lungs and finally exhaled. And he was going to share a bed with her.

All the while, Christine prepared for bed. She put her dirty uniform in the hamper by the bathroom, making a mental note to do the laundry soon before it starts to overflow. Lastly, she stood in front of a mirror on a wall and fixed her golden curls. Her fingers fluffing and scrunching her soft hair, which came an inch below her jawline; she looked stunning, to say the least.

She finished tussling with her hair and shut the light. All though it was nearly pitch black in her room, she made it safely to her bed by the light of the clock. She joined him on the twin-sized bed and slid under the covers, snuggling down to Spock's level. She laid on her side, facing the Vulcan as he too turned to her. They both exchanged an electric charge as they laid side by side, Christine more visibly affected by it out of the two of them.

"Good night, Spock," she broke the silence. "Pleasant dreams."

He was going to argue that dreams are not dictated by the person and he had no control over how a dream could be "pleasant" or not, but she had closed her eyes with a small smile on her lips. He gave up the thought and relaxed into the sheets and pillow.

"Good night, Christine."


	3. Suspicions Arise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirk and McCoy notice Spock's unexpected absence; and Christine goes about her normal routine but with a monkey on her back...or rather, in her bra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I might write a separate nsfw oneshot about this scene. In case, I might make this a series (???) only to include the little smut fic.

Spock was the first to wake up out of the two of them. He was used to waking up at 6:00 on the dot, but he didn't have to at the moment. He could've slept all day, something very foreign and unproductive. As much as he wanted to get up and go about his business, he couldn't. He discovered that the shrink ray's effects still lasted 9 hours later, a note to be remembered for the PADD. 

He sat upright in bed, stretching his tiny limbs outwards to shake off the kinks and cracks in his joints and the stiffness of slumber in his muscles. A soft snore came from the figure next to him. He looked to left where the nurse was currently sleeping, almost forgetting that she was there beside him. 

Spock studied her features with close scrutiny. Her hair framed her face as her head laid against the pillow, a few cowlicks here and there, some wisps falling over her eyes and cheeks; her brownish long eyelashes lay against her cheek; lips parted ever so slightly to produce those little snores, soft and pale; her hand accompanied her head on the pillow, the other wedged underneath the downy throw. If anything, Spock would say she looked peaceful and he contented to lie still with her for a few more minutes.

A few minutes turned out to be an hour later, when her alarm clock went off at 7:00. Christine roused from her slumber, turning around in her bed to slap her hand on the snooze button, and letting it fall and dangle beside the bed. Spock watched wordlessly. He thought of Nurse Chapel to be the kind of person that jumped up out of bed, ready for work. He was proven wrong as another little snore sounded from her mouth and nasal cavity. Five minutes had passed and her alarm rang again, and this time, she rose slowly and reached to turn off the annoying device.

She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed with the little energy she had. Her hands rose above her head to stretch just as Spock had done nearly an hour before, her back popping and cracking as the tension was temporarily relieved while she stretched. Both of them fell to her sides and perched at the edge of the mattress.

She pushed herself off her cozy haven and turned around to make her bed and gasped when she saw the tiny Vulcan looking back up at her. Admittedly, she had forgotten that yesterday's events actually happened and he was, in fact, next to her as she slept. 

"Oh, good morning, Spock!"

He nodded, hands folded neatly on his lap. "Good morning, Christine."

"Did...did you sleep well?"

"Yes. Did you?"

"Yes I did, thank you," she glanced at the bathroom. "Do you...need to use the bathroom?"

"I do, however, I am not quite sure how to accomplish such a feat."

The nurse folded her arms across her chest. "Well, I have a thought and you may not like it."

"I am not in a position to favor suggestions."

"Given your current state, I can't leave you alone. To carry on your daily routine would prove difficult and although you probably don't want to admit it, you'll need help to do even the most simplest of things, including using the restroom," he was silent as she continued. "What I'm trying to say is: I'm not letting you out of my sight."

She was right, he did not like it. But he had to agree that doing things by himself is out of the question. He mimicked her actions and crossed his arms over his chest, slowly nodding. 

"Very well."

"And, there's one more thing." An eyebrow raised at the addition. "You...well, you are going to see me in many different ways, just as I am going to see you. Do you understand?"

He blinked pensively as he looked straight ahead to process her words. It dawned on him by what she meant, and there was no avoiding the situation, for it couldn't be helped. Again, he nodded, accepting the circumstances. 

Christine exhaled in relief, dropping her arms from her tight crossed position. She turned to her dresser and pulled out a fresh uniform, underwear and bra, and pantyhose. Spock knew what was going to happen next, and his heart pounded in his chest. She returned to the bedside and held out her hand for him. Pushing the covers off, he clambered onto her palm, latching on to her thumb. They both entered the bathroom, and she shut the door.* (See notes at the top)

* * *

  
"Jim, can I talk to you for a minute," McCoy called softly from behind the Captain. Kirk swiveled around to face him, his posture rigid yet his expression calm. One hand gripped the arm of the charm while the other was raised to support his head in his hand. He didn't have to say anything to let McCoy know he had his attention. "Spock is missing, and I don't know where the hell he went."

Jim exhaled sharply, a sign of anxiety. "So I've been told," he started hesitantly. "It has only been 10 hours since either of us or any other crewman has seen him, so we can't say he's a 'missing person' yet." His brow furrowed, making him look 10 years older than he was.

"'Yet,'" McCoy mocked. He grabbed the arm of his chair forcefully, earning the Captain's concerned gaze. "Something is definitely wrong because Spock isn't the type of man to just disappear without warning. I had him scheduled for a physical yesterday, and I know he hates physicals. But he still comes, even though he'd rather not. And for the first time ever, he never showed. That's not like him!"

"Bones, calm down. You're gonna break the buttons on my chair," Kirk mused to keep the high-strung doctor grounded. "Look, we have another 14 hours before we can say he's missing. He might turn up before then!"

McCoy's eyes practically bugged out of his head. "And if he doesn't?"

A few beats of silence, and Kirk spoke rather calmly. "Then we can report it to Starfleet and have them send a search party for him." McCoy let go of his chair, head turning away to avoid Kirk's searching eyes. "Hey, if I know Spock, he's just fine. Wherever he is. He can handle himself."

The doctor brought his hands behind his back and clasped them together, much like Spock's signature pose; he looked at the view port as the stars whizzed past them, attempting to seek solace in this frantic moment. "I hope you're right, Jim."

* * *

  
Nurse Chapel patted the man's bandaged arm gently and smiled. "There you go, ensign. Be careful next time you use that saw." The red shirt nodded and he jumped down from the examining table. 

"Thanks, nurse." He gave a small wave and he exited sickbay.

Christine sighed tiredly. Almost 50 patients later, she was yearning for a meal and her bed. Dr. McCoy had been busy buzzing around the Captain, nearly chewing his ear off about how worried he was about Spock. The Captain took everything in stride and let Bones rant his negativity for healthy release. However, because of his frequent absence in sickbay, that meant all responsibilities were on the nurse's shoulders. Thankfully, it was a slow day and no major procedures needed to be done. 

She went over to her little desk and took a seat, leaning back against the springs of the chair. Spock peered up from her cleavage, "Are you alright, nurse? Your change in pace suggests that something is troubling you."

"Spock, you can't just pop out at random," she rubbed her temples. "Besides, I'm fine. Just a little tired, that's all."

Spock raised an eyebrow at her attempt to shoo away his concern. A low, monstrous grumble vibrated against his body, and he seized up as it grew louder. It lasted only a few seconds, and relaxed again. "Are you hungry, Christine?"

Her cheeks flushed slightly. "...Yes."

"I suggest you replenish your energy." He patted her chest endearingly, a gesture that may go unnoticed by many, but it made her heart flutter. She sat for a few more seconds, thinking over her options and how to redirect any incoming patients. 

She pressed the comm button on her desk and spoke clearly and unhindered, "Chapel to bridge."

"Kirk here." The captain had answered, much to her surprise.

"Oh, Captain! Is Dr. McCoy with you?"

"He is. Bones?"

Some shuffling was picked up on the microphone of the comm, and she heard McCoy's irritated voice come through. "What is it, nurse?"

"The time is now..." she paused to check the clock. "13:03, and you've been on the bridge for more than 20 minutes. I know you've ducked out of sickbay more than once to consult the captain about your worries, but it's my lunchtime and I'm quite fatigued. I kindly request that you come back to resume your duties and temporarily relieve me of mine."

The doctor opened his mouth to argue, but he found that he could not. "...Alright. I'll be there in a few. McCoy out." And the line was silent.

Christine took her hand off of the button and she sat back once more, satisfied with her victory. Spock was rather impressed with her tone of demand and confidence. He felt her heartbeat beneath his hands as he pushed on her chest to view her face. He saw that her eyes were closed and a smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. She felt his eyes on her, and she opened hers to look back down at the Vulcan. He was taken aback, as he did not expect her to catch him staring, and immediately took his hands off her breast, snapping his head downwards to break their contact.

They both waited a few minutes for the doctor to return, and when the doors swished open to reveal an unamused Bones, Spock dove back down into his place of hiding.

Christine stood gracefully from her desk, holding an air about her that seemed to radiate confidence from her small victory over the grumpy doctor, and Spock could sense that from her. They both passed each other, she uttered a "thank you" to him and he responded with a gruff "mhmm." 

She waited until the doors closed and the coast was clear before she whispered down to Spock, "Let's go get something to eat."


End file.
